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| One of at least six ways in and six ways out |
Sunny Fleetwood. It's close to my heart in many ways. It's where I used to live for one, but also where John Lennon went on his holidays, the home of Britain's first fully automated telephone exchange and it was once the end of the west coast mainline. As I outlined in last year's blog, I think old Fleetwood is an architectural gem, even if was supposed to look like Bath, but the money ran out after two buildings and it doesn't it still has it's charms. It has many other claims to fame (such as the little mini town model in the museum, the boating pond where I used to sail boats my Grandad made with his own hands and a rusty old trawler) and much to offer the world but it still feels wrong to be playing them as equals.
Why, I ask myself, do I feel that? This (it just so happens) is the 100th article of this blog and when not writing about the Mighty Tangerine Wizards, I'm mostly to be found railing against the attitudes of the 'big clubs' like a drunk and deranged man on street corner that wielding the blog like a dirty old carrier bag and shouting incoherently at pigeons and passers-by about things like "the stupefying and deadening boredom of an elite league, dominated by the same teams whose position is all but guaranteed and who act like a cabal. Where is the competition? Won't someone think of the romance? Won't someone think of the rest of the game? Won't someone think of the sheer poetry and romance of the small town team made good, the unlikely, the never was team who became something, where, I ask you is the surprise, the soul, the sheer capricious random capacity of football to surprise?"
Given my habit of such outbursts, I feel it would be churlish, hypocritical and small minded to resent Fleetwood their successes or to look down upon them as somehow invalid or unworthy.
But...
Let's be honest.
They're not us. They never will be. No matter what happens today, they're just an irritating mosquito on the beautiful beach of tangerine dreams. Let's hope we can swat them aside and go about our merry way for a few more months, happily ignoring them till we're back where we belong and they can only dream of.
The big question is: To Madine or not to Madine? Personally, I'd always Madine. Anyone who doesn't appreciate him is a philistine and possesses the critical appreciation levels and tactical awareness of a gnat in my humble opinion. I'm as surprised as anyone that I feel this way given it felt as if wor Gary was on a one way ticket to 'anywhere but Blackpool' in the summer.
It really does feel that there are essentially two target men left in football - Giroud and Madine and it's a toss up as to which one is best. Like Lampard, Critch didn't seem to fancy the big lad, but like boring Frank he's found he actually has grown to love the big old throwback. No one else in the game seems to be able to head a football anymore and to my naive tactical mind, being able to attack both in the air and on the ground is useful in a game where you're actually allowed to do both even if hipster aesthetes deem it gauche and ugly.
Critch concurs and the Goal Machine starts... as does Ward and Gretarsson with Ballard and Robson surprise omissions.
---
Fleetwood start with real verve - an inswinging corner is clawed out by Maxwell and shortly after Charlie Mulgrew cracks the post from a ridiculous angle. We respond with a corner of our own, lofted to the near post and flicked on across the goal by a defenders head and out of play for another. The game is being played at pace and the Cods look as purposeful as anyone we've faced to date.
CJ gets a chance to run and offloads just as he looks like taking on the defender. Sullay takes a touch, turns and gets a shot off that's blocked. CJ again goes down the left and turns it low to the near post where the keeper smuggles it round the post. Momentum has shifted to the Mighty but Ched Evans battles against the Viking and wins a corner and the pendulum moves back.
It's been a good, breathless start. You might think it was a derby match if you didn't know better. Sullay can shift his balance better than a Weeble and he goes one way, than the other and back again, dribbling like an ice skater, gliding through their defence. Mackay responds by charging through at the other end but Turton makes a stunning challenge and gets up, chest puffed out like a hard man.
It's another wide run, CJ on the right this time and he's fouled after crossing. Sullay spots it up, just outside the area and lofts it in for Madine to nod home. It was so easy after the difficulties the start to the game suggested, Madine seeming almost unchallenged and burying it past a flailing keeper, a proper header by a proper striker. It's a right steak and kidney pie of a goal. I don't know what that actually means but it feels right.
Dougall makes a brilliant tackle and there's a bit of spice in the off the ball altercation that follows. This is fiery, but we're giving as good as we get and after just 20 minutes have forced Barton to rejig their formation.
Fleetwood put a lovely passing move together, really crisp triangles and send Burns down the right, Husband makes it back and we clear, but Fleetwood basically repeat the move and this time cross early and only tight marking prevents Evans getting a better touch and the ball ends up well wide from 15 yards. The formation shift seems to have done them some immediate good.
Sliding tackle meets sliding tackle. Ward goes through the back of someone, Dougall wrestles. Ward is tripped after a really, really good pass from Ekpiteta, splitting two advancing forwards perfectly and finding him in space with a counter attack opening up. Fleetwood go direct and cause a bit of chaos. Hamilton ends up in the stands...
The game has finally settled down a bit and Maxwell takes an age over a goal kick. Sullay, Husband and Madine combine and it's a corner. Two crosses, two stretching clearances and an absurdly ambitious diagonal volleyed pass by Turton that ends in the stand. Now Fleetwood are coming forward again, passing neatly, looking busy and dangerous but meeting a wall of defenders. Long balls are exchanged, Evans and Madine both winning flick ons but both defences stretch and do their jobs.
Barton's switch has nullified us, but it's not unlocked them. If anything, they look less of a threat than they did. Critch mooches back and forth in his area, hands deep in his pockets. Picky little free kicks abound. Not lonely this week Jerry takes a gloriously enthusiastic throw, trying to find Madine in the middle, his technique like that of a little kid, both feet coming off the ground. The linesman doesn't notice. Dougall catches the ball with his toes and back to goal. He flicks it and then volleys over his shoulder, head tennis ensues and as the ball is nodded up in the box, once, twice, three times, I notice Madine, patrolling, watching, waiting, slowly cruising across the six yard box.
It really does feel that there are essentially two target men left in football - Giroud and Madine and it's a toss up as to which one is best. Like Lampard, Critch didn't seem to fancy the big lad, but like boring Frank he's found he actually has grown to love the big old throwback. No one else in the game seems to be able to head a football anymore and to my naive tactical mind, being able to attack both in the air and on the ground is useful in a game where you're actually allowed to do both even if hipster aesthetes deem it gauche and ugly.
Critch concurs and the Goal Machine starts... as does Ward and Gretarsson with Ballard and Robson surprise omissions.
---
Fleetwood start with real verve - an inswinging corner is clawed out by Maxwell and shortly after Charlie Mulgrew cracks the post from a ridiculous angle. We respond with a corner of our own, lofted to the near post and flicked on across the goal by a defenders head and out of play for another. The game is being played at pace and the Cods look as purposeful as anyone we've faced to date.
CJ gets a chance to run and offloads just as he looks like taking on the defender. Sullay takes a touch, turns and gets a shot off that's blocked. CJ again goes down the left and turns it low to the near post where the keeper smuggles it round the post. Momentum has shifted to the Mighty but Ched Evans battles against the Viking and wins a corner and the pendulum moves back.
It's been a good, breathless start. You might think it was a derby match if you didn't know better. Sullay can shift his balance better than a Weeble and he goes one way, than the other and back again, dribbling like an ice skater, gliding through their defence. Mackay responds by charging through at the other end but Turton makes a stunning challenge and gets up, chest puffed out like a hard man.
It's another wide run, CJ on the right this time and he's fouled after crossing. Sullay spots it up, just outside the area and lofts it in for Madine to nod home. It was so easy after the difficulties the start to the game suggested, Madine seeming almost unchallenged and burying it past a flailing keeper, a proper header by a proper striker. It's a right steak and kidney pie of a goal. I don't know what that actually means but it feels right.
Dougall makes a brilliant tackle and there's a bit of spice in the off the ball altercation that follows. This is fiery, but we're giving as good as we get and after just 20 minutes have forced Barton to rejig their formation.
Fleetwood put a lovely passing move together, really crisp triangles and send Burns down the right, Husband makes it back and we clear, but Fleetwood basically repeat the move and this time cross early and only tight marking prevents Evans getting a better touch and the ball ends up well wide from 15 yards. The formation shift seems to have done them some immediate good.
Sliding tackle meets sliding tackle. Ward goes through the back of someone, Dougall wrestles. Ward is tripped after a really, really good pass from Ekpiteta, splitting two advancing forwards perfectly and finding him in space with a counter attack opening up. Fleetwood go direct and cause a bit of chaos. Hamilton ends up in the stands...
The game has finally settled down a bit and Maxwell takes an age over a goal kick. Sullay, Husband and Madine combine and it's a corner. Two crosses, two stretching clearances and an absurdly ambitious diagonal volleyed pass by Turton that ends in the stand. Now Fleetwood are coming forward again, passing neatly, looking busy and dangerous but meeting a wall of defenders. Long balls are exchanged, Evans and Madine both winning flick ons but both defences stretch and do their jobs.
Barton's switch has nullified us, but it's not unlocked them. If anything, they look less of a threat than they did. Critch mooches back and forth in his area, hands deep in his pockets. Picky little free kicks abound. Not lonely this week Jerry takes a gloriously enthusiastic throw, trying to find Madine in the middle, his technique like that of a little kid, both feet coming off the ground. The linesman doesn't notice. Dougall catches the ball with his toes and back to goal. He flicks it and then volleys over his shoulder, head tennis ensues and as the ball is nodded up in the box, once, twice, three times, I notice Madine, patrolling, watching, waiting, slowly cruising across the six yard box.
I have never seen a footballer look more like a shark.
We get a corner. They score an offside goal that has me worried for a second then the whistle goes. If it was a derby, I'd be fucking chuffed with that half. As it is, I'm pretty thrilled anyway with a lead against the near neighbours who are quite a good team if we're honest.
----
I can't see a need to change things. What I'd be doing though, is readying the bench and at the first sign of a Donny style collapse, I'd be making changes and chucking a massive tantrum on the touchline.
The question is - do we soak up what will come and then hit them on the break or keep doing what we're doing and going toe to toe? I'd do the latter as I don't think we can afford to let them play. 'Keep spoiling and battling but don't dare take your foot off it or I'll loan you to fucking Albania' would be my half time team talk I think.
---
Fleetwood are out bright and early with a sub and presumably their third tactical switch of the game. Northern soul blares out as Pool join play unchanged.
The first action of half worth noting is the mighty Goal Machine chesting it down, letting the ball bounce then hitting it on the half volley like a kicking horse, the ball going not far over and striking the stanchion behind.
To think, it's not so long since I was pining for Armand.
Armand who?
Exactly...
Marvin stumbles and the Cods are through, feasting on the scuffed pass, but who is back saving the day? It's Sullay fucking Kaikai of all people and the moment is gone. They come back though and send the ball across the face of goal but no one shows for it. A minute later Sullay does an incredible impression of a one of those sprung loaded ski flags, bending almost to the ground with the ball, then bouncing upright and going the other way to beat his man. It's got no impact in the end but what a player this lad can be. Give me Sullay over some steady non-entity any day of the week.
If Madine was quick, he'd be outrageous, but he isn't quite fast enough (i.e. he moves like a WW1 tank) to take advantage of a long ball from Ward that looks like it might set him free. The big man can only hold it up instead. Husband is winding up Barton by having the temerity to get fouled. Neither side are quite putting it together and Fleetwood are ready for more subs and winning some dangerous set pieces. It's becoming a bit of a battle of who can roll around most convincingly after a challenge, players from both sides acting as if they're in sheer life threatening, career ending agony till the ref offers the option of leaving the pitch for treatment then both sets of players seem to be miraculously recovering.
Pool's threat so far this half is summed up by a Ward cross to no one. Hamilton surge forward and is challenged, the ball bounces to Critch who in one move takes his hands from his pockets, catches it and seems to go and take the throw himself. Perhaps he's been lost in the game and slipped into a dream that he's playing it. I do that sometimes.
Suddenly there's a flurry of Pool, CJ wins a corner from a Fleetwood slip. From the corner, the ball drops to him and he almost fiddles his way through. Then CJ again, having had a completely anonymous half so far, marauding into the box, a defenders hands all over him but he's staying on his feet, pulling back for Madine who drops his shoulder, wriggles, looking for space but not quite finding it and cannoning it into the defence.
Another Cods change and the first Pool one, Keshi for Yates who, it goes without saying, has run himself into the ground as usual.
The Cods win a corner but Maxwell plucks out the air, not for the first time today. He belts it long, CJ brings it down and we pass, calm play, just daring them to come and get it and shifting it to the next man before working it to Kaikai who bursts into the box, strikes it low and draws a good save from their keeper.
If parts of the game were scrappy, Pool's next move is lovely, passing and exploiting the space Anderson is finding in the hole, a lovely piece of football that sets Keshi free eventually but his low cross is the first poor touch of the move. That prompts about 30 Fleetwood passes in a long move that needs a brilliant Viking header and a desperate leap from Marvin to block their route to goal.
Garbutt replaces Sullay. Maxwell claws another corner out from under his bar. The Viking gets clattered in the face. We get the first bit of Madine in the corner and whilst it annoys the fuck out of their right back, I wonder if it's a bit too early. The football is scrappy again. I wonder at the accuracy of their 'One Way In, One Way Out' banner - there's a tramline, the prom, Amounderness Way and the road down through Rossall to name but four. I once walked all the way down the Estuary as well and if the tram isn't running you can catch the 14 all the way down the coast. That's six.
Last minute, they win a free kick in the corner. The Viking heads away. The ball comes back and it looks horrible for a moment but our peroxide hero Dougall gets a touch and the moment is gone, the ball in Maxwell's hands. Just when you think he can't do any better, our Kenny then pulls out a Cruyff turn on the far touchline. Seconds remain. The Cods build again, tension rises. They pass it out of play. We lose it from the throw, it comes back and again, it's Dougall getting a foot in, before again it comes back, Marvin slides, but still it comes back... the added on time is up and still they threaten, the ball goes wide and then... finally...the ref blows the whistle.
---
It started like a train and then descended into being a bit of a scrappy game but it's another very, very good result. We've won 3 or 4 away league games and beaten two well fancied sides. Fleetwood looked decent at times but as I said above, seemed to neuter themselves in trying to negate our threat and then couldn't really find the same intent they started with, no matter what changes they made. We've defended very well and that's without our best defender. Good teams are built on good defence and when you consider that we've got Garbutt and Gabriel on the bench as well Ballard presumably on the physios table, we're looking very strong in that area. We don't even need to pretend Demi is a defender any more.
How can I not be happy when Sullay sets up the Goal Machine? That's essentially my perfect Blackpool goal but real credit has to go to Maxwell who dealt well with set pieces and showed presence in the box when needed as well as the rest of the defence and the fucking wonderful Kenny Dougall. We've really battled and come out on top.
Again, Critchley has changed things and again it's worked. After playing football against Pompey, we went much more direct here and the result was the same. My initial assessment of Critchley was one of tactical naivety but he's showing he can learn on the job (from his experience or from Calderwood, it doesn't really matter which) and we're looking much cleverer as a result.
Sir Peter Hesketh! Jane Couch! the Lofthouses! Alfie Boe! Heron Freezer Foods! That little souvenir shop near the Knott End ferry... Do you hear me? Your guys took... Actually, no, it doesn't matter. It's not, after all, a derby. A win against any side who made the play offs last year is a great outcome but there's no need to get all superior about it. They've done very well to get where they have and all that. Show some dignity man, give them a pat on the head for effort and walk away with the three points...
Once again. Lets hear you all...
All HAIL THE GOAL MACHINE!
We get a corner. They score an offside goal that has me worried for a second then the whistle goes. If it was a derby, I'd be fucking chuffed with that half. As it is, I'm pretty thrilled anyway with a lead against the near neighbours who are quite a good team if we're honest.
----
I can't see a need to change things. What I'd be doing though, is readying the bench and at the first sign of a Donny style collapse, I'd be making changes and chucking a massive tantrum on the touchline.
The question is - do we soak up what will come and then hit them on the break or keep doing what we're doing and going toe to toe? I'd do the latter as I don't think we can afford to let them play. 'Keep spoiling and battling but don't dare take your foot off it or I'll loan you to fucking Albania' would be my half time team talk I think.
---
Fleetwood are out bright and early with a sub and presumably their third tactical switch of the game. Northern soul blares out as Pool join play unchanged.
The first action of half worth noting is the mighty Goal Machine chesting it down, letting the ball bounce then hitting it on the half volley like a kicking horse, the ball going not far over and striking the stanchion behind.
To think, it's not so long since I was pining for Armand.
Armand who?
Exactly...
Marvin stumbles and the Cods are through, feasting on the scuffed pass, but who is back saving the day? It's Sullay fucking Kaikai of all people and the moment is gone. They come back though and send the ball across the face of goal but no one shows for it. A minute later Sullay does an incredible impression of a one of those sprung loaded ski flags, bending almost to the ground with the ball, then bouncing upright and going the other way to beat his man. It's got no impact in the end but what a player this lad can be. Give me Sullay over some steady non-entity any day of the week.
If Madine was quick, he'd be outrageous, but he isn't quite fast enough (i.e. he moves like a WW1 tank) to take advantage of a long ball from Ward that looks like it might set him free. The big man can only hold it up instead. Husband is winding up Barton by having the temerity to get fouled. Neither side are quite putting it together and Fleetwood are ready for more subs and winning some dangerous set pieces. It's becoming a bit of a battle of who can roll around most convincingly after a challenge, players from both sides acting as if they're in sheer life threatening, career ending agony till the ref offers the option of leaving the pitch for treatment then both sets of players seem to be miraculously recovering.
Pool's threat so far this half is summed up by a Ward cross to no one. Hamilton surge forward and is challenged, the ball bounces to Critch who in one move takes his hands from his pockets, catches it and seems to go and take the throw himself. Perhaps he's been lost in the game and slipped into a dream that he's playing it. I do that sometimes.
Suddenly there's a flurry of Pool, CJ wins a corner from a Fleetwood slip. From the corner, the ball drops to him and he almost fiddles his way through. Then CJ again, having had a completely anonymous half so far, marauding into the box, a defenders hands all over him but he's staying on his feet, pulling back for Madine who drops his shoulder, wriggles, looking for space but not quite finding it and cannoning it into the defence.
Another Cods change and the first Pool one, Keshi for Yates who, it goes without saying, has run himself into the ground as usual.
The Cods win a corner but Maxwell plucks out the air, not for the first time today. He belts it long, CJ brings it down and we pass, calm play, just daring them to come and get it and shifting it to the next man before working it to Kaikai who bursts into the box, strikes it low and draws a good save from their keeper.
If parts of the game were scrappy, Pool's next move is lovely, passing and exploiting the space Anderson is finding in the hole, a lovely piece of football that sets Keshi free eventually but his low cross is the first poor touch of the move. That prompts about 30 Fleetwood passes in a long move that needs a brilliant Viking header and a desperate leap from Marvin to block their route to goal.
Garbutt replaces Sullay. Maxwell claws another corner out from under his bar. The Viking gets clattered in the face. We get the first bit of Madine in the corner and whilst it annoys the fuck out of their right back, I wonder if it's a bit too early. The football is scrappy again. I wonder at the accuracy of their 'One Way In, One Way Out' banner - there's a tramline, the prom, Amounderness Way and the road down through Rossall to name but four. I once walked all the way down the Estuary as well and if the tram isn't running you can catch the 14 all the way down the coast. That's six.
Last minute, they win a free kick in the corner. The Viking heads away. The ball comes back and it looks horrible for a moment but our peroxide hero Dougall gets a touch and the moment is gone, the ball in Maxwell's hands. Just when you think he can't do any better, our Kenny then pulls out a Cruyff turn on the far touchline. Seconds remain. The Cods build again, tension rises. They pass it out of play. We lose it from the throw, it comes back and again, it's Dougall getting a foot in, before again it comes back, Marvin slides, but still it comes back... the added on time is up and still they threaten, the ball goes wide and then... finally...the ref blows the whistle.
---
It started like a train and then descended into being a bit of a scrappy game but it's another very, very good result. We've won 3 or 4 away league games and beaten two well fancied sides. Fleetwood looked decent at times but as I said above, seemed to neuter themselves in trying to negate our threat and then couldn't really find the same intent they started with, no matter what changes they made. We've defended very well and that's without our best defender. Good teams are built on good defence and when you consider that we've got Garbutt and Gabriel on the bench as well Ballard presumably on the physios table, we're looking very strong in that area. We don't even need to pretend Demi is a defender any more.
How can I not be happy when Sullay sets up the Goal Machine? That's essentially my perfect Blackpool goal but real credit has to go to Maxwell who dealt well with set pieces and showed presence in the box when needed as well as the rest of the defence and the fucking wonderful Kenny Dougall. We've really battled and come out on top.
Again, Critchley has changed things and again it's worked. After playing football against Pompey, we went much more direct here and the result was the same. My initial assessment of Critchley was one of tactical naivety but he's showing he can learn on the job (from his experience or from Calderwood, it doesn't really matter which) and we're looking much cleverer as a result.
Sir Peter Hesketh! Jane Couch! the Lofthouses! Alfie Boe! Heron Freezer Foods! That little souvenir shop near the Knott End ferry... Do you hear me? Your guys took... Actually, no, it doesn't matter. It's not, after all, a derby. A win against any side who made the play offs last year is a great outcome but there's no need to get all superior about it. They've done very well to get where they have and all that. Show some dignity man, give them a pat on the head for effort and walk away with the three points...
Once again. Lets hear you all...
All HAIL THE GOAL MACHINE!
utmp
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I've written a hundred of these fucking things in a year - that's an overwritten blog on something that will not make me any money every 3.65 days - so if you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand. (or be like big Gaz and half the rest of the squad and chuck into the club's Christmas appeal )
Home-Start
Blackpool Food Bank
Tweet
I've written a hundred of these fucking things in a year - that's an overwritten blog on something that will not make me any money every 3.65 days - so if you appreciate the blog and judge it worth 1p or more, then a donation to one of the causes below which help kids and families in Blackpool would be grand. (or be like big Gaz and half the rest of the squad and chuck into the club's Christmas appeal )
Home-Start
Blackpool Food Bank
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